


In The Bleak Midwinter

by letsownthisbadboy (somethingsalwayswrong)



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: But whatever, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Hanukkah, M/M, Pre-Canon, Tumblr: pacrimholidayswap, and i forgot, i got really caught up finding a year where hanukkah and christmas overlap, so idk if they were in vladivostok that year, so real talk, to see if that year lined up with canon, we play fast and loose with canon in this fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-26
Updated: 2015-12-26
Packaged: 2018-05-09 10:32:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5536604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somethingsalwayswrong/pseuds/letsownthisbadboy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>The year is 2022. December 24th. In Vladivostok. In a giant metal military bunker with little to no insulation. And of course, the K-Science nerds are given the draftiest little lab in the entire building. Newt did some measurements once. It got to be three degrees Fahrenheit indoors once. Yeah, three.</i>
</p><p> </p><p>  <i>So naturally, Hermann is dying. </i></p>
            </blockquote>





	In The Bleak Midwinter

**Author's Note:**

> A Christmas gift for juniperpunk on tumblr for the pacrimholidayswap. So glad you liked it, Merry Christmas!

The year is 2022. December 24th. In Vladivostok. In a giant metal military bunker with little to no insulation. And of course, the K-Science nerds are given the draftiest little lab in the entire building. Newt did some measurements once. It got to be three degrees Fahrenheit indoors once. Yeah, three.

 

So naturally, Hermann is dying.

 

It’s not that he gets particularly cold, even being as thin as he is. No, it’s his damned hip. The cold affects it like nothing else and makes it stiff. Some days he can hardly get out of bed from the pain of it. And no amount of medication or bundling up are helping the situation. But he’s stubborn. He manages to get up every day all the same, throw on as many layers of knitwear as is socially acceptable (and then one more for good measure), and then tops it off with the giant parka Newt has never once stopped mocking him for before trundling down the halls towards the lab. Sure, he looks more like a walking pile of fabric than a human being but damnit at least he’s warm.

 

But today is worse than usual. Only halfway through the winter and it’s colder than anything. Hermann can’t even stand at his chalkboards because of how badly his hip hurts. Instead he tries to do his work on his virtual model, tweaking it this way and that, writing out what notes he could by hand.

 

It’s a quiet day in the lab, for once. There’s something about December that mellows both Hermann and Newt out, keeps them from arguing as much as usual. Maybe it’s the little sparse decorations around the lab (Newt’s tiny Christmas tree at one corner of his desk and his little menorah on the other, plus tinsel strung along the chalk tray of the board). Maybe it’s the faint holiday music they have playing in the background most of the time. Either way, it’s nice. A momentary truce. Come January 1st, they’ll be back at it again.

 

Every once in a while, Hermann shifts in his seat and grimaces as sharp pains shoot up from his complaining hip. As much as it isn’t fond of him standing today, it’s also not fond of him sitting for several hours straight. He lets out a tiny sigh.

 

From across the lab, Newt pops up his head. “Y'okay there buddy?”

 

“ ’S fine,” Hermann mumbles back. Newt, even when being considerate, is a distraction. And right now, Hermann’s tired. He’s cross. He’s thinking about warm blankets and sweet, sweet unconsciousness.

 

Newt puts down his scalpel with a scoff and starts peeling off his gloves. “Okay, don’t give me that. I’ve known you for how long now? A Hermann not using full sentences is not a ‘fine’ Hermann.”

 

He starts to make his way across the lab to where Hermann is sitting.

 

_Oh dear God._

 

“Newton, I’m fine.” He tries to prove that by standing so he can wave Newt back to his own side of the lab. Unfortunately, this plan is doomed from the start. His hip screams at him for daring to move or apply pressure to it. He barely tamps down the shout of pain.

 

“See, that?” He waves a stern finger at Hermann. “That is not 'fine’ to me. It’s your hip again, huh?”

 

Icy silence from Hermann’s end.

 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. It’s colder than a witch’s tit in here. I can barely feel my own hands.” He snatches up the parka from the back of his chair and throws it over Hermann’s shoulders.

 

“Alright, dude. Arms in. You’re benched for today.”

 

“Newton, I told you. I’m fi-”

 

“If you say you’re fine one more time, I’m gonna fireman carry you out of here. Hey don’t scoff, I happen to be in peak physical condition. Now, arms? In the jacket.”

 

Hermann musters up his best “Shut Up, Newton” scowl (patent pending). Newt crosses his arms and responds with a stubborn look of his own. They face off, puffs of air visible in the freezing room.

 

Finally, something small and petty in Hermann breaks and he relents, shoving his arms in the jacket like a petulant child.

 

“There we go!” Newt beams.

 

_What a loser._

 

They gather up the rest of Hermann’s belongings, put his cane in his hand, and shuffle out the door of the lab, quietly bickering over how unnecessary this is (from Hermann) and how necessary it really is (from Newton) and how stubborn the other is (from both of them). It doesn’t take long to reach Hermann’s quarters.

 

Hermann fumbles with his key card while Newt stands there, arms crossed like a disappointed parent. Before long, they’re inside and Newt goes straight into caretaker mode, setting up Hermann’s tiny space heater and plugging in an electric heating pad.

 

This doesn’t happen often, Newt helping Hermann. They’re normally at each other’s throats or too busy working. But on occasion, they take care of each other. God knows nobody else remembers they’re down there in the drafty basement of the Shatterdome. The weird nerds have to look out for each other. So sometimes Hermann bring a tray of food for Newt and leaves it on his desk for him or pokes him when he ignores his medication alarm. And sometimes Newt drags Hermann off to his quarters and forces him to relax and take care of his hip.

 

10 minutes later and Newt has gotten him medicated, out of a couple of his layers, and into bed with an electric heating pad on his hip. This is…nice, he has to admit. Not just having help when he’s having a particularly bad pain day. That’s good, yes. But also…trusting Newt. It isn’t something he does often.

 

He rolls over. Newt is at his desk, tapping idly at his phone. Occasionally, when he thinks Hermann isn’t paying attention, he looks up to check on him.

 

He doesn’t have to do that. He could have left the second Hermann had gotten situated. But here he is, staying and making sure Hermann is okay.

 

Something in Hermann’s chest lurches slightly. He frowns.

 

_Stop that, you._

He looks up at Newt again, who is looking back. Their eyes meet and for a second, Hermann can see…something. It causes that disgusting lurching to happen again. Newt doesn’t dart his eyes away, just offers him a quick smile and then goes back to his phone. Hermann can’t quite bring himself to look away after that.

 

Newt’s hair is wreck. There’s smudges on his glasses that are visible from across the room. There’s a suspicious stain on his shirt. He’s almost definitely on Tumblr, based on the way he keeps stifling a laugh behind his fist.

 

Somehow, this all hurts more than his hip.  

 

Eventually, Newt stops looking up to check on him. Hermann decides to give in to the sleep that’s been slowly tugging at him. He’ll worry about that lurching later, when he doesn’t have his strongest pain meds coursing through him.

 

Hermann sleeps through the night. When he wakes up, it’s close to 9 am. He’s warm, he’s cozy in bed, and best of all, his hip is mostly pain-free. It’s still aching slightly but he can handle that. It’s no longer at the intensity it was at yesterday. He smiles. Thank God for Newt, honestly. Thank God for that stubborn, stupid little man.

 

Speaking of which…

 

He rolls over to face the desk. Newt has fallen asleep slumped forward, face smashed into the desk’s surface. His glasses are halfway off his face.

 

_Oh that…. That little…_

 

Hermann  knows two languages well and they’re both failing him right now.

 

Hermann’s hip is being kind to him as he crosses the room and shakes Newt’s shoulder. “Newton. Newton, wake up.”

 

Newt jolts awake, glasses still hanging off his face. There’s drool dried on his face.

 

_Idiot. That’s the word I wanted. Idiot._

 

“Aw jeez, I’m sorry Herms. Didn’t mean to fall asleep in here.” Newt straightens his glasses out and looks up at Hermann. “Oh man, you’re standing! Feeling a little better then?”

 

“A bit, yes.” And here, Hermann falters. “I wanted to say…” That lurching has gone from his chest straight into his throat. It’s getting harder and harder to ignore the similarities to when he met Vanessa.

 

“Yeah, man?”

 

“I wanted to say…”

_Say thank you, just say thank you. Why is it so hard to tell him that you’re glad he stayed?!_

 

“Merry Christmas, Newton.”

 

“And Happy Hanukkah, those are both still happening.”

 

Hermann sighs. “And Happy Hanukkah, you pedantic little brat.”


End file.
